


maybe it's in the gutter (where i left my lover)

by lesbianbettycooper



Series: umbrella academy fics [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant (i think?), Character Study, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17917253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbettycooper/pseuds/lesbianbettycooper
Summary: There are stars missing from the cohesive display. Scratch marks and peeled paint and blood filling the empty spaces.They're not glowing right now - middle of the day and all - but looking at them have the same effect on her that they did when she was a child.She’d stared up at them and wanted to be one. To be a star; to be so unwarrantedly wonderful at bringing joy; to exist so simply but to glow without wavering.or; glow in the dark stars make allison Feel Things





	maybe it's in the gutter (where i left my lover)

**Author's Note:**

> super uncreative title but i was listening to it as i wrote this so oh well djkfhsdkf 
> 
> title from bellyache by billie eilish

Allison’s childhood bedroom has glow in the dark stars plastered on the ceiling.

 

An array of stickers that remind her of nights spent curled around herself, hoping for something better than this. A distant galaxy of luminescent memories, burnt out and sad.

 

There are stars missing from the cohesive display. Scratch marks and peeled paint and blood filling the empty spaces.

 

They're not glowing right now - middle of the day and all - but looking at them have the same effect on her that they did when she was a child.

 

She’d stared up at them and wanted to be one. To be a star; to be so unwarrantedly wonderful at bringing joy; to exist so simply but to glow without wavering.

 

She’d glared up at them and wondered why her brother wanted to be among them. Why Luther wanted so badly to go to space. Why he’d want to leave her.

 

Allison had wanted to go to Hollywood and she had never wanted to set foot in this Godforsaken house again after departing. But the thought of Luther leaving her behind had ignited a hypocritical resentment within her.

 

She’d known that, ultimately, their father probably could and would send Luther up there — if not for actual work then because Sir Reginald always tired of his children eventually and Luther had always been one to linger — and Allison had been unsure if her father would ever let her off of the short leash he kept them all on. If Hargreeves would keep her locked up at the Academy simply because she wanted to leave.

 

Now though, staring up at the stickers, she thinks of naivety and her youth and the fleeting moments of happiness they’d been allowed. She thinks of Pogo bringing them each something to decorate their rooms with and of the excitement at seeing the stars for the first time. She thinks of Ben and Klaus helping her stick them to her ceiling while their father was training Luther. Thinks of Ben complaining when Klaus went at it without rhyme or reason; peeling and resticking the stars carefully and arranging them in a way that wasn't troublesome to him. She thinks of flopping back on her bed with Ben as Klaus raided her closet, of laughter and grins so wide they hurt, of playful eye rolls and feigned annoyance.

 

Her eyes stray to the spots that were bare and missing stars. She remembers clawing at them after Ben died; ripping the stickers down and throwing them around her room. Stripping paint clean from the ceiling in the process. She remembers gasping for air, collapsing to her knees, tucking them tight beneath her, and sobbing.

 

She remembers how she'd seen Ben’s mangled body and horrified face every time she closed her eyes. She remembers wondering if this is what Klaus saw every day; remembers thinking that if it was, she should be a little nicer to him. She remembers tucking her bleeding fingers between her thighs and curling even tighter around herself; her screams and cries muffled into her knees.

 

Allison remembers how  _ hopeless _ , how utterly  _ useless  _ she’d felt that day. She remembers resolving to leave this wretched place as soon as she could. Remembers vowing to never become a martyr for Sir Reginald fucking Hargreeves. She remembers hearing her door creak open and feeling cold hands circle around her waist; hearing apologies for not being there in her ear and feeling hot tears wet her shoulder. And she remembers knowing it was Vanya before even hearing her voice - her sister had always had cold hands.

 

A knock sounds through her room and Allison quickly wipes at her face, “Go away.” She calls like a child, her voice quiet and sad like one too.

 

Whoever it was complies and she hears their footsteps retreating. She aches for a time when she’d had someone who would press further. Who would knock and knock and knock and not leave until she opened the door for them.

 

She misses Patrick. She really does. Misses his little smiles and the way he would steal kisses whenever he could. She misses his laughter and the dates he would take her on. She misses dinner being set for her after a long day at work; misses how he would put up with all her famous person bullshit without complaint.

 

And,  _ God _ , she misses their daughter. She misses Claire so much it physically hurts. She misses her gap-toothed grin, misses her tiny hands twirling Allison’s hair and putting it in messy braids. Misses the awe-filled way she’d listen to Allison’s Umbrella Academy stories; her little mouth ‘o’ shaped and her eyes wide even though she’d heard the tale many times before.

 

Allison misses her so Goddamned much that she feels like she can’t breathe properly; like she’s shot in the side and is taking shallow breaths; like she’s eight years old and trying to beat Diego at holding their breath underwater; like someone’s ripped her lungs out from her chest and laid her heart out on a table and set fire to her insides. And  _ fuck  _ does she wish she was exaggerating.

 

And Allison feels like she’s losing her mind in this house. She's so far from her little girl, too close to her estranged, dysfunctional family. She feels like she’s losing her mind because some part of her is grieving for Hargreeves. Some  _ deranged  _ part of her is actually  _ grieving  _ for a father who didn't care about her. Grieving for a father she’d seen a total of  _ once  _ since escaping the academy. And she feels like she must be  _ insane  _ because the apocalypse is fastly approaching and she's choosing  _ now  _ to get closer to Vanya and Luther.

 

She turns to her ceiling again; her face is wet but she doesn't bring her hands up to wipe at it. Her fingers instead play with the comforter.

 

She’s a star but she doesn't feel like a happy glow in the dark one. She feels more like the ones ripped off her ceiling and thrown to the ground.

 

She feels like a cracked, bloody, glow in the dark, sticker star and she can find no one at fault but  _ herself. _

**Author's Note:**

> SHE!!! i love allison so much and i really like writing this!!
> 
> also i did this from memory so if something is like blatantly wrong/not canon compliant like..... tell me??
> 
> comments and kudos are super appreciated!!! and my tumblr is dykeayoade :D


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